


Where the Poor Boys Dance

by jdjunkie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s07e01 Fallen/Homecoming, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-03
Updated: 2010-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-11 10:33:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdjunkie/pseuds/jdjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where do you go when you need to find your place in the world?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Poor Boys Dance

_“Take me where the poor boys dance, _

_Back to where it all began. _

_I need to find out who I am. _

_Something that I left back there. _

_Out there in the cool night air. _

_I just need to know that someone cares ...”_ \-- Take Me Where the Poor Boys Dance, by Lulu.

 

It’s a good day to be sitting in the passenger seat of an open-top sports car. The sun is shining, there’s a warm, early-evening, early-summer breeze  ... and Sam is smiling.

In fact, Sam hasn’t stopped smiling since she picked Daniel up from his temp quarters at the Mountain. Daniel keeps casting her sideways glances as they drive, and every time he catches that dimple-inducing grin. She’s not bothering to hide it. She’s happy. And Daniel suspects he has a lot to with that.

He leans back into the soft leather of the BMW and closes his eyes. The sun and wind on his face feel so good. He’s finding the confines of life underground suffocating. He wonders if that’s new, or something he’s always felt. Then he tries not to wonder, because he can only think of these things for so long before he wants to hit something. He has a fondness for sparring with Teal’c at the base gym. He suspects that might be new.

“You okay?”

He’s been drifting, straddling the thin line between waking and sleeping. He doesn’t like going to sleep – he dreams, disjointed, nonsensical dreams – and he hates waking up because, for a stomach-lurching moment, it’s like he’s falling out of heaven.  He shakes himself a little. “I’m fine.”

Sam turns her head slightly and looks at him before turning her full attention back to the road. The wind whips the hair across her face. He’s struck by how pretty she is and how thin. The past year’s been tough on all of them.  He’s been told that often enough this past week. It’s tangible things like lost weight and hovering friends and barely-concealed concern in tired eyes that make him believe it.

“But you’d be better if people stopped asking if you’re okay, right?” And there’s that smile again.

He smiles back, hoping his appreciation of her thoughtfulness shows in his eyes. “People mean well.”

“If it gets too much ... if you just want to be left alone, you should say. We won’t mind. We’re just glad to have you back. That’s why ...

“People keep asking me if I’m okay.”

She laughs then, a genuinely happy laugh. He hugs her happiness to him. It makes him feel good. It centers him.

He watches the houses pass them by in a neat, suburban blur. The route doesn’t seem familiar. He shifts in the seat and runs a hand over the cream leather.

“Nice car,” he says.

“It’s a rental. For the summer. I’m looking at a new Volvo. But I wanted to have some fun for a while.”

“When did you take delivery?”

“Yesterday,” she says, as they pull up to a red light. She turns to him, her face a little serious. “I can let myself have some fun now.” She holds his gaze, as though she wants him to get it.

He reaches across and puts a hand over her hand on the steering wheel. She smiles a slightly tremulous smile and pulls smoothly away as the light turns green.

Daniel gets it.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; 

Jack’s truck is in the driveway as they pull up to his house. It’s 6.54. They’re six minutes early. Militarily punctual. If you’re not early, you’re late. The phrase runs through Daniel’s head and he’s no idea where it’s come from.

They walk up to the front door and Daniel takes a good look at the house. He likes the wood and stone and glass immediately. It feels oddly familiar, although mainly unfamiliar. Like so many things. He reaches the door first and opens it and goes in. Sam lags behind, and he turns to find her giving him a strange look, like maybe he should have knocked. It hadn’t even entered his head. He should have knocked.

He hears voices to his left; Teal’c’s bass rumble and Jack’s higher tone and heads down the hallway, six pack in his hand. Sam follows with two tubs of Ben &amp; Jerry’s and a bottle of Pinot Grigio.

As Daniel and Sam round the corner, Jack rises from arm of the arm of the fireside chair where he’s perched. He puts down his half-empty Guinness bottle on the coffee table.

“Hey. You made it.” He smiles, first at Sam and then at Daniel. There’s a surprising warmth in his gaze that Daniel immediately responds to. He finds himself smiling in return.

“We weren’t sure what to bring, sir.” Sam holds up the ice cream tubs almost apologetically.

“Well, you brought yourself and you brought Daniel. I’m thinking you did good.” Jack’s eyes stay on Daniel, assessing, analyzing. Daniel feels a little like a bug under a microscope. He wonders what Jack’s looking for exactly.

“The ice cream is New York Super Fudge Chunk for Teal’c, and Coffee Heath Bar Crunch for Daniel.”

Jack takes the containers from Sam’s hands and looks askance. “And what do I get?”

“You get us, sir.” She shrugs and grins.

It’s like this smiling thing is catching because when Daniel looks over at the couch, Teal’c is smiling, too. It’s kind of unsettling.

“Sit down. Take a load off. There’s pizza in the oven and salads in the fridge, if you really have to sully the goodness of the pie.” Jack’s voice gets quieter as he moves off to the kitchen. “And Carter, drop the sir. Pro tempore.”

Daniel’s heart-rate speeds up. Latin, he thinks. Pro tem. For the time being. Language. So beautiful, so rich and  ... beautiful. Tears spring to his eyes. He can’t control this. It’s happening a lot. Something special and precious comes back to him, something touched on tangentially more often than not, and he wants to cry.

_Shit, not here. Not now ..._

He coughs to cover his discomfort and blinks away the unshed tears, then looks around for somewhere to sit.

He scans the room; couch by the big glass doors, coffee table, rug. There’s a coffee stain under the table. He’s sure of it, even though he has no idea how it got there or why. But he’s sure there is. He’s drawn to the mantelpiece, and the photographs and the medals. They’re arranged differently, oddly spaced somehow, but he can’t remember how they were originally. He looks at them in fascination, aware all the time that he’s being watched. It’s unnerving. The constant scrutiny, the weight of their unspoken worry, is beginning to wear him down.

“Coffee’s on. Wine’s chilling,” Jack says, coming back into the room, clapping and then rubbing his hands.

Daniel’s still staring at the pictures, but he can actually feel the silence behind him, see the exchanged glances as Jack takes in the tableau.

“My. It’s awful quiet in here,” Jack says, slowly.

Daniel turns to face them by a massive act of will. “Sorry. I’m just ... trying to get reacquainted.” His eyes dart around the room. “I guess that applies to people as well as places, huh?” he adds, huffing a laugh. Making it a joke. Trying for light-hearted.

“We are your friends, Daniel Jackson. We remember you well. Do you not trust us to help you find your way back to your old life?”

Good old Teal’c. He never did fear to tread those difficult places. That much Daniel knows for sure.

“It’s not about trusting you guys, Teal’c. It’s about ... me trusting me.” And he can’t really go any further with that without spilling a whole lot of stuff he doesn’t want to spill just now. He’s getting a headache, and that seems to be par for the course at this time of day. He doesn’t say anything but he sees Jack seeing and knows straight away that Jack knows.

“I have aspirin,” Jack says.

Sam looks puzzled and looks at Jack but doesn’t say anything.

“Thanks.”

“You wanna?” Jack waves a hand in the direction of the kitchen.

“Sure.”

Daniel follows Jack up the steps and on into the kitchen.  He leans against the fridge while Jack pulls a glass from the cabinet, fills it with water and searches another cabinet for the painkillers.

“How did you know? About the headache?” Daniel takes the glass and pills.

“You’re getting headaches every day at about this time. Too much thinking. You always did think too much. Plus, you get that little knotty thing in your forehead, over your left eye.” Daniel realizes that Jack is standing close. That he hasn’t moved away after handing over the glass. That he’s raising a hand towards Daniel’s face. But he stops, pulls back, winces and walks over to the stove.

There’s a tension in the air that wasn’t there a moment ago. Daniel doesn’t know what to say.

“Oh,” he says. “Right. I guess I’m still getting to know my body.”

Jack is bent over the stove now but Daniel sees Jack’s hand clench on the kitchen towel he’s using to pull out the shelves to check on the pizzas. Jack freezes. It’s just for a moment but it’s unmissable.

Something’s going here and Daniel cannot get a handle on it. He can’t hear what’s going unsaid and it’s frustrating him beyond belief. He needs to be out of there.

“Can I use the bathroom?”

Jack closes the stove door. “No need to ask. You know where it is?” He asks the question as if he really wants the answer to be ‘yes’. That Daniel does remember.  Daniel’s headache intensifies.  

“I know where it is,” Daniel says, floundering. He does know where it is. He turns and walks away, sure that he does remember. It’s down the hallway and opposite Jack’s bedroom. Something makes him stop outside the open bedroom door. The bed is unmade. The sheets are a rumpled mess on one side. The other side is neat and pristine. Untouched. He shivers.  He has no idea why but, oh _fuck,_ he’s going to cry again.

He makes it to the bathroom, locks the door and leans back against it.

He can’t take this. His head is bursting with misfiring almost-connections.  His senses are being assaulted at every turn. Smells remind him of meals eaten and disparaged off-world ... _I wouldn’t feed this stuff to Maybourne_ ... Sounds remind of someone close to him, maybe his mother, playing Mozart on the piano ... _Always_ _play with your heart, Daniel ..._

He splashes his face with cold water and tries to clear his head.

But all the time he knows there’s more to discover and remember. There’s always something else.  There will _always_ be something else.

He thinks longingly of the peaceful woods of Vis Uban, of tents where he’s left alone to think and be, and of sitting around evening campfires listening to Shamda and his telling tales. Life was peaceful  then.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door. He’s been in here a while.

“Daniel?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Daniel. You okay?”

There’s that question again. “Yes. I’m coming. Be out in a second.”

He wipes his face with a towel and looks at himself in the mirror over the sink.  He is Dr. Daniel Jackson. They’re all telling him and showing him who he is but he doesn’t feel it.

He’s not okay. He’s very far from okay.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; 

Sam picks at the meat on the pizza. “Tastes like chicken,” she says and looks at him, without appearing to look. They all do it. They’re waiting for him to respond to something he doesn’t remember.

“It really does,” he says.

That seems to do the trick. They all relax and talk turns to plans for Cassie’s birthday.

Daniel wants to go home. Wherever that is.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; 

Janet drops by just as they’re finishing the ice cream. She bitches about there being nothing left. Jack counters that he didn’t know she was coming. Sam says if she’d known Janet was coming she’d have baked a cake.

Jack and Janet tell her they’re glad she didn’t know.

Everyone laughs and Jack and Janet drink beer, while Sam drains her wine glass.

Across from the couch, Teal’c simply watches Daniel. His presence is solid and reassuring and he’s not asking anything of Daniel at all. Daniel wonders what he’s thinking.

Daniel smiles at him. Teal’c inclines his head.

Daniel’s exhausted.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; 

Sam kisses him on the cheek and whispers, “Love you,” before heading home in a cab after drinking more wine than she anticipated. Teal’c rests a hand on Daniel’s shoulder and Janet rubs his arm and casts a part-professional, part-personal eye over him. “Get some rest. I can make that an order,” she says, smiling affectionately.

“No need,” Jack says. “He’s hitting the sack the minute you’re gone.”

“Then we’re gone,” Janet says, and ushers Teal’c to her car.

And then there are two.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; 

The house is quiet. Jack putters around clearing tables and sorting trash. Then he sits on the couch next to Daniel with the remains of another Guinness.  After an evening of chatter and trying to fit in and not worry anyone, Daniel’s bone-weary.  “Need anything?” Jack asks, resting his legs on the coffee table and crossing them at the ankles.

Daniel laughs and lets his head fall back against the cushion. “That is_ some_ question.”

Jack drinks from the bottle, then rests it on his thigh. “Wasn’t meant to be. I was thinking water or juice or some spare sweats to sleep in.”

Daniel closes his eyes. “I need to fucking _remember.”_

Jack says nothing for a while. Waits.

Daniel lets out a gust of breath. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m ... god, this so frustrating. My memory _is_ coming back. It’s just not coming back quickly enough or in any kind of logical order. I can remember the stray dog my mom and dad adopted on a dig at Hierkonpolis but I can’t remember the name of Hammond’s grandchildren. I know I love coffee but I didn’t remember I hate mushroom on pizza.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I should have remembered. You’ve eaten enough of the damn stuff here.”

Daniel sighs. He opens his eyes and lets his gaze wander around the room again. “I feel comfortable here,” he says.

“Good,” Jack says, in the same way he said the word in the locker room when they had their little reconnecting chat.

“I lied by the way,” Daniel says. He recognizes the non-sequitur for what it is, just as he knows its use won’t confuse or irritate Jack.

“About what?”

“When I said I remember enough. I don’t think I remember anywhere near enough.”

Beside him, Jack tenses but says nothing. There’s a definite sense of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“About anything,” Daniel continues. “There are things I don’t remember about Sam and Teal’c and you, and I’m not sure how that’s affecting how I relate to everyone now. It’s making me ... difficult to be around, I think.”

Jack’s silent for a while, then he says, “Not so much. It’s just gonna take a while. Fraiser says so, so it must be true.”

Daniel smiles. There’s no arguing with Janet.  “Are Janet and Teal’c an, er, item?”

Jack chokes on the last drops of stout. He coughs and then splutters, “What the hell makes you think  that?”

Daniel shrugs. “I don’ t know. Just a feeling. There’s a kind of ... gentleness in the way Teal’c looks at her. I wondered if it was one of the many, _many_ vibes I’m probably not picking up on.”

Jack puts the empty bottle on the table, then sits back and half-turns towards Daniel. “You’ll be happy to know your life is not, and never was, an episode of As the Gate Turns. Teal’c’s not with Fraiser as far as I know and I _would _know because Carter would tell me, Carter’s not with Teal’c, and Carter’s not with Fraiser. Although, that would be kinda ...”

“Jack!”

They both smile then. It feels good. Jack looks more relaxed than he has all evening.  Daniel slumps down into the comfort of the big couch, but his eyes are drawn again to the mantelpiece. Unable to settle, he pushes up and off the sofa.

He stands in front of the fireplace and runs his hand along the shelf above it. “There’s something different here. The pictures, they’re not in the same order and there’s a gap ... here.” He rests his hand on the wood.

“Wow. You _are_ remembering some unlikely stuff.  I had a ... change around ... while you were away. To accommodate a few things.”

Daniel studies Jack’s medals while he thinks about that. “_My _things,” he says, suddenly. Certain. “You said, that night I came back, that you kept some of my personal things alive.

“The gap is where the photograph of you riding that camel was. You always had that on show, either at home or in your office. It seemed important to you.”

Daniel turns to face Jack. “It was. Is. You were keeping _me_ alive. I wondered that night at your choice of words.”

Jack shrugs. “Someone had to look after that stuff. Didn’t seem right to just box it up and put it in some  ... room ... somewhere.”

Daniel returns to the couch. He’s so tired, but being here with Jack is important.  He doesn’t want to give into sleep yet. He settles in but can’t stifle a yawn.

“You should go to bed.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Yes, Daniel.  You are.”

“I don’t want to go to sleep.”

“Now you sound like a five-year-old.”

“I dream ... and I ... don’t want to dream. And the only thing worse than that is waking.”

They’re sitting close, Jack still turned towards Daniel, arm resting along the back of the seat. The proximity is comforting in a way Daniel can’t articulate.

“Wanna talk about that?”

“No.”

“Wanna talk at all?” Jack fixes him with a look that is warm and speaks of such ... acceptance ... that Daniel feels the tears begin to well again. Blindsided.

“No.” It’s a whisper because that’s all he can manage. He dips his head to avoid the understanding in those brown eyes.

“Look. You’re out on your feet. You have a blinding headache. You have more questions than answers. But you have time, Daniel. It’ll all still be here in the morning. Besides. Fraiser will have my ass in a sling if you don’t get some rest.”

Daniel feels a tear spill down the side of his nose, damp and traitorous. He nods, head still down. He’s reached the end of his rope.

“C’mon. Guest room’s made up.”

But his eyes are closing already and his body is giving in. He’s not going to make it that far.

He feels strong hands, pushing him gently down onto the couch. A pillow, a blessedly soft pillow, is placed beneath his head and a soft, warm blanket is draped carefully over him. It’s heaven.

He falls asleep knowing he’s not alone for the first time since he came back.

He falls asleep with a big, warm hand resting gently on his head. Just resting ... just there.

Just ... there.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; 

Somewhere in the depths of the night, Daniel stirs.

He thinks he hears Jack rising from the armchair opposite the couch.

He has no idea what the time is but he thinks he’s been asleep for hours. The house has that dead-of-night stillness about it.

Jack has been there all this time. He pads softly down the hallway and Daniel turns over and falls asleep again.

He doesn’t dream at all.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; 

The next morning, the smell of coffee wakes him. He blinks into awareness. Jack’s house. Morning.  He’s slept solidly, soundly. No dreams and no fearful awakening. He feels rested for the first time in what feels like forever.

Jack’s sitting in the chair across from him, where he was last night. He’s reading the paper, eating a bowl of oatmeal. He smiles when he sees Daniel’s awake.

“Sleep alright?”

“Actually, yes.  For the first time.” Daniel reaches for the coffee that’s been placed within reach and takes a gulp. It’s hot and rich and delicious. Made just the way he likes it.

Jack’s smile widens and it’s tinged with ... relief? Quiet delight? Possibly both.

“Gotta be at work in an hour. Shower’s all yours. There’s clean underwear laid out in the bathroom.”

“Jack?”

Jack eyes him warily. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me stay last night.”

Jack puts down his bowl and folds the paper before putting it on the table. “You’re welcome. Now ... shower. Don’t want to be late. For some unfathomable reason, I gotta write a resume of Jonas’s year on the team. For official record.”

Daniel leans on an elbow and looks around for his glasses. Jack hands them to him. Daniel doesn’t remember taking them off last night.

“Jonas did okay?”

“He did ...okay.” Jack winces. “He wasn’t you.”

Daniel sighs at the irony. “Neither am I. Yet.”

Jack regards him thoughtfully. “Like I said. It’ll come back.”

“Everything?”

“Yeah. I think so.” He’s silent for a moment, than adds, “I hope so.”

Daniel rubs a hand across his face. “You think there’s a lot of stuff I still don’t remember?”

A look passes across Jack’s face, but it’s there and gone before Daniel can put a name to the emotion behind it.  “I don’t know. No one can possibly know that.”

Daniel pushes back the blanket and sits up, absently scratching his chest. “Well, I think you know me pretty well.  Forgotten mushroom dislike notwithstanding.”

Jack smiles, but it’s a sad smile, and Daniel instantly regrets the jibe. “I should ...” Daniel waves a hand in the direction of the bathroom.

Jack stands and picks up his empty bowl. “Yeah.”

Daniel follows Jack into the kitchen and puts his coffee mug in the sink.

He takes a shower. It’s hot and wonderfully cleansing. He feels ... lighter somehow. Being with the team last night, difficult though it was, and talking, or not talking, to Jack, has started to give him a sense of his place in their world. He can see that now, in the clear light of morning.

He’s loved.

He’s valued.

It’s a new day and he feels refreshed. It feels good. Finally, something feels good.

One night can’t wipe away all the uncertainty and frustration and pain, but today, he feels he’s starting to feel who Dr. Daniel Jackson really is.

 It feels like it could be a beginning.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; 

Twenty minutes later, they’re in Jack’s truck on the way to the Mountain.

It’s another beautiful day. Blue skies, gentle breeze. Opera on the radio. Daniel closes his eyes and drinks it all in. After a while, he feels Jack’s eyes on him.

“You okay?”

That question again. But today, Daniel feels differently about it.

“I will be,” he says, with a surprising, calm certainty. He lets himself drift and loses himself in the complex rhythms of the aria. And then, because it’s important, he opens his eyes, turns his head and asks, “You?”

Jack checks his mirrors before making a smooth left turn. “I’m getting there,” he says.

On an impulse, Daniel reaches across and puts a hand on Jack’s on the steering wheel. Jack turns gentle, smiling eyes on him.

Daniel smiles back.

He gets this, too.


End file.
